


Prankster, Friend, Traveler, Champion

by leet911



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Non-Canonical Character Death, Spoilers up to C2E85
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21542230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leet911/pseuds/leet911
Summary: Years after they’ve saved the world, Beau and Yasha commune over Jester's grave.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Yasha, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Prankster, Friend, Traveler, Champion

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before C2E86, so spoilers up to C2E85.
> 
> Sorry for writing a sad story. I saw a tweet about Beau learning to bake to impress Jester, and this is what happened.

* * *

It’s Jester’s birthday, so Beau is baking again. This isn’t grief baking. This isn’t a regular thing anymore, only for special occasions. Caduceus says that means she’s getting better. “Sometimes is progress from all the time.”

Beau doesn’t feel much better today though. Some days, she thinks she’s getting by, but this isn’t one of them. Caduceus says that’s normal too. “No one can be strong every day.”

So the cupcakes are out of the oven and Beau’s whisking up a batch of blue frosting to top them. There are sparkles, of course, and tiny hamster unicorn candies made of coloured sugar. The candies are literally magic, woven out of thin air by Caduceus, shaped into something Jester would appreciate. It was sort of an apology from the firbolg, for not being around this year. “I know we always go together, but I have a family thing I need to attend. Will you be ok?”

Beau brushes off the concern with her typical nonchalance. “Yeah of course, why wouldn’t I be?” But she’s crying into her frosting right now.

* * *

Yasha doesn't visit often. She's not sure she's welcome. They all said it wasn't her fault, that she was not in control of herself, and not to blame. They all said that they had forgiven her, even Beau. _Especially Beau_. But Yasha still feels responsible. So she's here only once a year, on Jester's birthday, flowers in hand and tears in her eyes. Usually, she doesn't stay. She leaves the flowers, whispers a prayer, and disappears. She knows this is a day of remembrance. The others will come. And she's not strong enough for that.

Sometimes there are other flowers on Jester's grave, or even a box of pastries laid out, so Yasha knows she isn't the first to visit. Today the ground is bare, but it's only just after dawn.

The flower crown in her hand gets draped over the gravestone, carefully arranged so as not to hide any of the words:

**Jester Lavorre**  
**My Little Sapphire**  
**Prankster, Friend, Traveler, Champion**  
**You brought us more joy than we deserved**

She wipes the tears away and turns to leave, but freezes as someone speaks her name. 

“Yasha.” It’s Beauregard, decked out in her full expositor’s regalia, a paper box in her hands and a blanket under her arm. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Yasha wants to say that she has every right to be here, that she cares just as much as Beau (well, maybe not quite as much as Beau), but her words are resigned instead. “I was just leaving.”

Beau gives a tight half-smile, puts a hand on one of Yasha’s bare shoulders. “Stay. Sit with me. With Jester.” Yasha shivers, maybe from the unexpected contact, maybe from the autumn breeze. It’s a cold fall day, yet both her and Beau are defiantly sleeveless. And maybe this isn’t fair to Yasha, because Beau is feeling lonely and weak, and she isn’t thinking of anyone else. Why did Caduceus have to be busy today, of all days?

The monk takes out her picnic blanket and brushes away the fallen leaves around the grave. Then she lays out the blanket to sit cross-legged in front of the marker. And she promised herself she would be strong, but tears are threatening already.

Yasha also sits, but further away, careful not to encroach on the blanket. Her greatsword is placed on the ground between them almost as a barrier. If Beau notices, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she gestures towards the crown of flowers on the gravestone. “That’s pretty. Is that yours?”

A nod. “I thought Jester would like it.”

Beau nods too, opens the box between them and puts a cupcake on the ground for Jester. She takes one for herself as well, and hands another to Yasha. Even without words, when Beau touches her cupcake to Jester’s, Yasha does the same, as if they are all children playing _cheers_ with their treats. And as the cupcakes come together, they both say the same thing they’re thinking, “Happy birthday, Jester.”

Yasha takes a big bite because it seems like the polite thing to do. After all, Beau is doing the same. She avoids Beau’s eyes because she can tell the monk is crying, and she knows Beau doesn’t like to appear weak. _This is not weakness._ But Beau is trembling.

So Yasha moves closer, sits alongside the monk, and wraps her in a hug. She can be strong for Beau. She can talk about happy, innocuous things. “Where did you get these cupcakes? They’re really good.”

Beau shudders, “I made them.” And then her voice is suddenly very quiet. "I made cupcakes every day for a year and left one here for her every morning. So I got a lot of practice."

Yasha doesn’t know what to say to that. She doesn’t tell Beau that everything’s going to be alright, because she’s not sure it will. She doesn’t tell Beau that she still picks flowers for Zuala sometimes, when the sun catches the colours just the right way to remind her of home. Instead, she falls silent and holds Beau tighter, fighting her own tears.

For many minutes, there is only the wind and their breaths. Somewhere along the way, Beau’s breathing becomes less ragged but Yasha’s more so. It’s the aasimar’s turn to shiver. “I’m sorry,” she says (and she is), “I did this.”

"No. This isn't on you. You're not the one who killed her." Beau sounds sure even if Yasha isn’t.

"I’ve killed so many people,” Yasha weeps, “and Jester died because she thought she could save me."

"She did save you. And if she were here, she would tell you it was worth it."

Orphan Maker balanced against the Little Sapphire doesn’t seem fair at all. Not for Beau, nor for Yasha either. That can’t possibly be true. "What about you? Do you think it was worth it?"

Beau doesn’t say yes, but she speaks a different truth, "If she hadn't tried, she wouldn't be my Jester." 

And maybe that’s all there is. The monk stands and gathers her things, leaving just the box of cupcakes behind. She kisses her fingers and touches them to the gravestone. Beau walks away but Yasha doesn’t follow. Overhead, a lightning storm gathers.

_I miss you, Jester._

* * *


End file.
